men, much bandaged about the
head, swathed in linen, and covered with a cloak. The Knight has my
leave to lay the sick man before the holy relics, daily, for five days.
I asked of him what he expected would result from so doing. He made
answer: 'A great recovery and restoration.'"

The Bishop paused, as if meditating upon the words. Then he slowly
repeated them, taking evident pleasure in each syllable.

"A great recovery and restoration," said the Bishop, and smiled.

"Well? The blessed relics can do much. They may avail to mend a
broken head. Could they mend a broken heart? I know not. That were,
of the two, the greater miracle."

The Bishop glanced at the Prioress.

Her face was averted.

"Well, my daughter, matters being as they are, you may inform Sister
Mary Seraphine that, should she chance to lose her way among the
hundred and forty-two columns, when passing through the crypt after
Vespers, she will find a Knight, who will doubtless know what to do
next. If he can contrive to take her safely from the Cathedral and out
of the Precincts, she will have to ride with him to Warwick, where a
priest will be in readiness to wed them. But it would be well that
Sister Mary Seraphine should have some practice in mounting and riding,
before she goes on so adventurous a journey. She may remember the
crimson trappings of her palfrey, and yet have forgotten how to sit
him. It is for us to make sure that the Knight's brave plans for the
safe capture of his lady, do not fail for lack of any help which we may
lawfully give."

The Bishop stretched out his hand and took up his biretta.

"When did the nuns last have a Play Day?" he asked.

"Not a month ago," replied the Prioress. "They made the hay in the
river meadow, and carried it themselves. They thought it rare sport."

The Bishop put on his biretta.

"Give them a Play Day, dear Prioress, in honour of my visit. Tell them
I asked that they should have it the day after to-morrow. I will then
send you my white palfrey, suitably caparisoned. Brother Philip, who
attends me when I ride, and who has the palfrey well controlled, shall
lead him in. The nuns can then ride in turns, in the river meadow; and
our little foolish bird can try her wings, before she attempts the long
flight from Worcester to Warwick."

The Bishop rose, crossed the cell, and knelt long, in prayer, before
the crucifix.

When he turned toward the door, the Prioress said: "I pray